When the Only One to Talk to is Mute
by Nicholas de Vilance
Summary: /A possible DiNozzoJackson pairing, prison escape, AU, slash fic/ Everyone's used to Tony's loudmouth on the way to work. /NEED feedback like I need to breathe. Please don't suffocate me/
1. Prologue

Nick: This is actually a test run of this idea I just got in my head and had to write down. I need someone to read it an tell me if I'm not completely out of my mind with it, so reviews are treasured more precious than gold. It revolves around Tony DiNozzo and Daniel Jackson and could possibly develop as a slash relationship if I continue. Based kind of loosely on every single prison/escape movie I've seen, most on _the Defiant Ones_, which is actually mentioned. This is very much just a prologue and hasn't really gotten to anything juicy, but I needed to establish the characters. Try not to assume, just give me basic, honest feedback.

Disclaimer: I'm not that crazy. I'm only this crazy. That? That's all them.

Rating: ...I have no idea, but we'll say T for language and some very mild references to violence.

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><p>If any man sits in a prison bus in the middle of the night and says he isn't interested in trying to escape, he's either stupid, or he hasn't figured out a way to do it yet. I mean it, not one of you guys could honestly say you aren't thinking about it—not that I'd expect any of you guys to be <em>honest<em>. Wouldn't be here if you made a habit out of that, right? But I'll be honest with you here and now, I get the chance I'm cutting out of this mess. Guess I'd have to take Partner along with me, won't I?" With a laugh, he jiggled the chain around his wrist that shackled him to the man he sat next to. "Seriously, kid, you ain't gonna slow me down."

Across from him, Lu Jackson kicked a shoe across the floor into Tony's and gave him a sharp look. "Shut up already, Di'Noisey.' Leave Daniel alone."

"Well, excuse me for getting myself married to your boy-toy," Tony remarked, wry smirk tugging at his lips. "Not my fault that prison guards got no respect for the _special_ bond you share with the kid." He lifted his arm and managed to gracefully put it over his chain-partner's shoulder even though it tugged the man's arm into an uncomfortable bend. Smiling sarcastically, Tony leaned into Daniel's personal space. "He wants me to leave him alone, he can tell me himself, can't he? What do ya say, Danny-boy? Am I bothering you?"

Like always, Daniel didn't say anything. All he did was turn his head and look Tony in the eye and make a face like Tony's breath smelled bad—which it usually did.

Awkwardly, Tony smacked the back of his head and quickly swatted away the protesting grab that Lu made for him. "Back off," he snapped, "the kid's a smartass, I think I got every right to bash his fucking head in, making that look at me."

"Cool that hot head or yours, DiNozzo, before you make a scene that gets us all in trouble."

Daniel used his free hand to pull his glasses from his face and was about to tug himself some of the chain slack so that he could clean them, but he took one more look at Tony and thought better of it. He held the spectacles by the arm between his fingers and twirled them around. Half the men in the transport might see this display as a show of submission, even weakness, but that would be because they didn't know Daniel. He didn't talk a lot—at all, really—so his ways of communicating were a bit different than other men. Even Tony noticed this, and he could tell that the man's lowered gaze and seeming obedience were actually his own means of being defiant.

Annoyed, Tony sat back on the bench and glared at Lu. "Didn't mean to get your panties in a twist there." He turned to Daniel and considered him for a moment. Then, with a bored sigh, he shifted his arm and released the chain so that the other man could move his arm more freely. "So Danny," he said, conversationally, "have you ever seen _The Defiant Ones_?"

While he wiped his lenses on the fabric of his jumper, Daniel looked over and shook his head.

"1958. Stars Tony Curtis and Sidney Poitier; it's about two guys—one black, one white—chained together in a prison transport vehicle on a rainy night, much like this one." Tony put his head back on cage window and closed his eyes. "The driver loses control of the transport while attempting to avoid a frontal collision with an on-coming bus and veers off the road, virtually destroying the truck. Curtis and Poitier take their chance and make a break for it. Became really close friends, which was unexpected given the time it was made."

Daniel just nodded, that curious little half-smile on his face.

"The things they went through together, just to get free. Gotta respect a pair of guys like them. Almost got lynched, both of them."

"Sounds like a great experience," chimed in Big Mike. He was the only black guy in the convoy and he didn't seem to like the story much. "I'mma speak for Daniel because I know he wants to say this. Shut your cracker-ass up."

Raising an eyebrow, Tony perched his ankle up on his knee. "I'm sure those are exactly the words he would use, too." Daniel laughed quietly and put his glasses back on. "Seriously though, what has the world come to? That movie is a classic and _no one_ has seen it? Where is your culture, people?"

"We're convicts, idiot," Lu stated, "we aren't exactly cultured types." That earned a few chuckles from the men that were close enough to hear the hushed conversation. "Right, Daniel?"

For some reason, Daniel didn't laugh this time. In fact, he frowned and gave Lu the mother of all scowls. Lu seemed to expect it and met it with the same fiery "almost-anger" in his eyes. The other guys slowly started to register the awkwardness and even Tony found it hard to break the silence this time. No one quite understood what it was between Lu and Daniel that had them both so close and so at each other's throats. There were whispers, of course, but nothing substantial enough even for a bunch of convicts. Some said they were together under fire in Iraq, but no one really _knew_. Just like no one really knew why Daniel didn't talk.

Tony knew, though, that Daniel could talk—he still had a tongue and he could make noise from his throat, he just didn't make words. Daniel was his cellmate, and Tony was an insomniac…and Daniel had nightmares. It was just sounds and movements, never any distinct things, but Tony could appreciate them for what they were. _Scary_. Like his eyes right now.

"So…" because one thing DiNozzo couldn't do was sit in silence—especially the awkward kind—for more than five seconds. "What about _The Great Escape_? You guys have to have seen that one. '63, Steve McQueen and Charles Bronson. McQueen plays a character called Hilts, a Captain during World War 2…"

As he started his due rambling up again, the tension in the air started to loosen and Lu smiled and Danny glance up at Tony. The road felt rocky beneath them, but it was a thing that every man aboard was used to.


	2. Chapter One

Nicholas: Chapter one of this fricken story. I have a better idea of where it's going now, so review if you want me to continue!

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><p>The rain got worse. Tires screeched.<p>

"Shit!"

Frantically, two men fled into the deep woods that lined the side of the road. Undergrowth gave way with shrill protest as careless feet trampled through as best they could into the night. The torrent of rain seemed to pound ever harder on their backs, turning the ground that supported them into an untrustworthy slosh of mud and rocks. As they tugged at each other, both trying to lead, both in different directions, the links of the chain binding them left telltale clinks and jingles behind them.

"Shit, shit, _shit_!" Tony cursed breathlessly. He yanked the chain again, dragging his reluctant companion along behind him. "Damn it, keep moving!"

For all his timidity and unobtrusive manner, Daniel was a fairly large man and an even _heavier_ mass of dead weight when chained to Tony's arm. Especially when he decided that now was a good time to become headstone. The second time that he fell to his hands and knees in the mud, Tony hooked his hands under the man's arms and practically carried him into the cover of trees.

"This is not a good place to stop," he hissed, "in fact, this is probably the worst place in the world to stop right now. Trust you to pick it."

The rain and the darkness made it impossible to see more than a few trees in front of them. Desperately, Tony struggled to get Daniel moving; the truck was in bad shape, and he could only hope that everyone inside was worse off so that he and Daniel had a chance to get away. Not that the kid was helping any in the "get the hell out of dodge" department. His feet didn't seem to be carrying him and he was making quiet noises in the back of his throat like he had something stuck there, but Tony didn't care about that right now.

"Quit dragging ass, Danny-boy!"

Unfortunately, Daniel didn't seem to hear him over the rain. The iron shackle started to bite into his wrist and his feet were slipping the mud while he tried to shove all six feet of Daniel's heavy ass along before they were caught thrown in isolation for attempting escape. It was getting to be really difficult and tedious shoving him along. Then the bastard went and slipped and both of them ended up face first in the mud. Cold seeped into Tony's shirt and deep into his bones as he practically sank into the loose ground. He looked up, spat out a mouthful of dead leaves and reached out blindly for Daniel. He was hoping to grab hold of the man's neck, but with the rain and dark, he only managed to get a hold of his shoulder.

Tony dragged Daniel up and glared at him straight in the face. "Listen, you fuck, you're mute not a paraplegic! You are going to get up and you are going to run with me or I will kill you myself and cut off your arm so I can get the fuck out of here, we clear?"

Suddenly Tony saw what was wrong with Daniel. His glasses were covered in water droplets so much that he probably couldn't see and there was blood dripping out of his nose. Add to that, his face was scrunched up and he was gripping Tony's arms like his life depended on it. Those choked, half-breathing noises were starting to make a whole lot more sense. For a moment, he didn't seem to be hearing anything.

"Hey!" Tony shook him, demanding attention. "Focus, damn it! Soon as they find that wreck, notice their headcount is down two convicts, they're gonna set the dogs on us. Know what happens to guys like us who try to escape?"

Shaking uncontrollably, Daniel twisted his torso to get away.

Tony grabbed his face. "Do you hear me!" When the other man tried to pull away again, Tony reached up and thumped him sharply on the back of his head. It always worked for him—something his boss used to do before he landed in prison.

Like a match stick lighting, Daniel's eyes opened wide and he was staring out of cloudy glasses at Tony.

"We have to get out of here, understand?"

This time, Daniel only hesitated a moment before he nodded and they took off into the rainy night.

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><p>It felt as if they had been running for hours when they both finally collapsed to the ground, exhausted. Tony's feet and legs were pulsing and throbbing in creaky protest as he bent his knees to try to push himself back up. Forcing deep breaths in and out of his chest, he blinked his eyes a few times to bring the sky above him into focus. The foliage was thick, barely letting glimpses of stars through and the moon was behind the heavy rain clouds, so the woods were black as pitch. Adrenaline coursed through him and kept his head swimming while he tried to catch up with himself. As the torrent settled in his mind, and he had a moment to stop and think, he realized that the rain had actually let up quite a bit. All he could feel now were the sparse heavy drops that had been caught by the trees.<p>

To his left, he could hear Daniel gasping and making those high, little noises in his throat like he wasn't getting enough air. When Tony looked over, the other man was flat on his stomach, fingers tangled in his hair. Frantically, he scrubbed at his scalp and pulled on his hair until, Tony expected, his hands would come away with clumps of blond. Tony could see the slick darkness of blood and muck getting worked into Danny-boy's usually-soft hair.

Abruptly, he lifted his head, looked up at Tony through his messy spectacles. Then, he was forcing himself up onto hands and knees. He gripped a good section of the fetter and threw himself at Tony, successfully tackling him to the ground and striking at him with a chain-wrapped fist. No intent on being quiet either, the sound that ushered forth from Daniel's throat—a harsh, raspy cry—could probably be heard for a good hundred yards or more.

"Woah!" Tony barely dodged the first punch, squirming awkwardly under Daniel's body weight.

On instinct, he brought his hands up and caught the next blow. He dragged Daniel off balance by his arm and knocked down to the ground, flipping the tables so that he had Daniel pinned down on his stomach with the chain looped around his neck. It wasn't in his nature to pull the thing too tightly; it wasn't in him to be lethal, contrary to what others might think. He tugged a little, just so that the chain was snug enough to keep Daniel still.

"What the hell are you so angry at me for?"

Thrashing wildly from side to side, Daniel managed to wriggle his knees up under him and try to fit his fingers between the chain and his throat. Tony actually had a hell of a time keeping his weight centered enough to hold Daniel down. "Calm down, kid."

He fell face first into the mud while Tony shifted to dig a knee into his back to keep him down. "I'm serious, calm the hell down!"

Daniel made a low noise, a deep growl in the back of his throat and reached back. He tried to get a grip on Tony with his slickened hands, but every time he did, he lost his balance. Then, he twisted his head around and tried to writhe his way loose from the chain around his neck. With all his strength, he forced his back up against Tony and slammed his head back into the other man's chin. He grabbed onto Tony's hair and jerked him to the side, and the plan was to pull him away so that he'd have to drop the chain and let him go. It didn't go that way.

Suddenly, Daniel was quite obviously not breathing anymore. Tony managed to keep his cool and not panic at the fact that he was virtually cutting off a person's life breath. "I need you to calm down, Danny-boy," he muttered into Daniel's ear, "If you struggle anymore and this thing gets any tighter, you will die. Now I don't think you want that, _I _don't want that. If you die, I'm going to have to cut your hand off, and I really hate the sight of blood, so I don't want to do that. I remember this movie called Snatch—Jason Statham, Brad Pitt, Benicio Del Toro. This guy's got a suitcase with a huge diamond in it handcuffed to his arm and he's the only one who knows the combination, so when the Russian dude shoots him in the head, and thus can't get the diamond out of the case, he takes out this big, ol' machete and cuts the guy's whole arm off. And then just—"

Tony was quickly alerted to a tapping at his thigh and the fact that Daniel wasn't gripping his hair anymore. "Oh!" he said when he realized that Daniel had in fact stilled and probably wanted to breathe again. "Sorry, kid."

As the chain unwrapped from around his neck, Daniel slid down and collapsed in a heap on the ground. Tony dropped down beside him, as far away as the slack would allow him to go and once more looked up toward the sky. This time, though, he was listening to his reluctant companion, waiting for the kid to catch his breath again. The sound of choking and gasping slowly dissipated as did the rustling in the grass as Daniel eventually settled down and rolled over onto his back.

"And then, he just took the briefcase, with the arm _still attached_," Tony went on as if he hadn't been interrupted at all. "And this Russian guy, Borris, is one tough mother fucker. He gets shot some forty times, hit by a car, stabbed and then he's walking down the street, back home and shit like he's fine. Fucking Rasputin…"

Heaving a sigh, Daniel turned his head and glared a wry smirk in Tony's direction. "What?" Tony asked, and the other man just looked away, up toward the stars.

Daniel shook his head. He stared up at the sky as though it had done him personal ill, and Tony got the feeling that he would be looking in _his_ direction like that. Eventually, Tony reached a point where he couldn't stare at the other man anymore. He was starting to get antsy, just sitting here in the middle of the woods, not saying anything, not doing anything. It wasn't just that he was certain by now someone had found that wreck and there was a pack of hounds on his tail. Well…their tail…tails…whatever.

"Are you gonna try to hit me again?"

Of course, Daniel said nothing, didn't even nod or shake his head.

"Did I piss you off? I mean, if it's something I did—or you know, if I said something…" Sighing, DiNozzo shoved his free hand behind his head and shifted over the rocks sticking into his back. "I'm not good at…If you would just—Damn it, I'm not apologizing to you."

As soon as he stopped talking, the quiet started to eat away at his nerves. He couldn't do quiet, it wasn't right, not to talk. "I hate you," he snapped dismally, if just for something to say.

Sitting quietly, Daniel didn't even stir. He was perfecting ways to creep Tony out and drive him insane, just staying so still and silent. Even his breathing was slow and barely audible. He was definitely doing this on purpose, just out of spite. Whatever had gotten him so broken up over the car wreck was making him petulant, Tony was sure of it.

It had completely stopped raining during their little spat, and now the moon was poking out of the clouds through the thick spread of leaves above them. Now, gray light sifted down to them, painting the trees with a nocturnal glow. The ground beneath Tony's back was cold, hard and damp, but he couldn't help thinking that it was even just a tiny step up from laying in a bunk behind a wall of bars. For the first time in three years, he was breathing free air. No one was going to take that from him. Especially not some creepy, dumb lug he had the misfortune to be attached at the wrist to.

He let that thought sit in him for a moment, playing with it and letting it grow until his resolve started to harden. "We gotta keep moving," he stated at length, sitting up and casting a glance at Daniel. "Th'hell are you smiling at?"

Still staring up into the sky at the stars that were beginning to peek out through the storm, Daniel had a small, conservative grin on his face. He shrugged, looked at Tony and pushed himself up shakily to his feet. Then, he shrugged again and tugged on the chain to help Tony up. Absently, he slid his glasses off of his nose and squinted disdainfully down at the filthy lenses and his equally filthy shirt. He settled for wiping at his eyes and then just replacing his spectacles on his face.

"When we get somewhere, we'll get them clean," Tony offered, then he amended himself in a gruff tone, "better if you can see so I don't have to deal with you tripping every five minutes."

That small, conservative smile returned to Daniel's lips and remained even after Tony turned away and started walking. He didn't get more than two steps before Daniel pulled him back and turned him around. The quiet man then lifted his arm and pointed out the direction that they should be going.

"How the hell do you know that?"

Daniel just shook his head and started through the trees in the direction he somehow knew they needed to go. He was just doing this to fuck with Tony's brain, no doubt of it. This kid was starting to gnaw at every ounce of patience DiNozzo had.


	3. Chapter Two

Nicholas: Um...yeah new chapter. Yay. -_- ...JUST KIDDING! Hope you like this next little installment. More angst and more mystery surrounding Daniel. I don't intend to answer any of those questions until much later by the way ^_^ Reviews are my lifeblood! ^_^

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><p>Groaning a soft 'ow,' Daniel twisted his wrist around in the cuff. It wasn't working and he knew that. Tony knew that he knew. Smug bastard was doing that condescending head-shake-plus-smirk for the umpteenth time, and DiNozzo had had just about enough of his smart-ass mouth. He could genuinely say he'd never thought that about a mute person before. He rolled his eyes in frustration and lifted the rock in fist. When he slammed it down onto the chain that was pulled tight between them, it didn't break. Of course it didn't.<p>

Silently, Daniel reached out his free hand in request. He had this look on his face that said 'give me to rock before you hurt yourself,' and damn if that wasn't completely infuriating.

Out of some form of spite, Tony ignored the proffered hand and reared back to strike again. Daniel drew back and braced himself. The damn chain didn't break…_again_. "Fuck this," he snarled, shoving the rock at Daniel, "think you can do better?"

As Daniel took the rock—which actually seemed more like a small boulder—he hefted in his hand for a moment. Then, he tossed it to the ground and shook his head.

"No? What do you mean, no?"

He shrugged one shoulder and pulled his cuffed hand toward himself. With a soft, pained hiss, he pushed the shackle out of the way and rubbed gently at his wrist. The skin was bright red under the dried muck and looked about to bleed. Tony leaned over for a closer look and Daniel recoiled away like he thought the other man might hurt him. Which was utterly ridiculous, wasn't it? So far, Tony had been a perfect gentleman, hadn't he? Ignoring the whole, cussing at him and dragging him all over hell and gone…and that little situation with the chain around Danny-boy's neck…okay fine.

"That looks infected," Tony stated, trying to sound less than hostile. "Why didn't you say something sooner?"

Daniel shot him an ironic glare.

Raising his hands in defense, DiNozzo acknowledged that he'd been pretty much a bastard for the last twelve hours. "You know what I mean. Let me see it."

While he considered, Daniel resembled something like a cornered animal, glaring over the rims of his glasses, just short of baring teeth. His long legs were folded under him in such a way that he probably could spring up in a split second to make an escape—you know, if it weren't for the chain that stuck them together. For someone who looked so much like a book-nerd, Daniel was deceptively well-built, probably could outfight Tony on even ground. At length, he outstretched his arm.

Tony took it as gently as he could—not that he was really used to being particularly gentle. He examined the chafed, red skin and the blister that had popped up over the jut of Daniel's ulna. It must have hurt like hell; props to the kid for keeping it to himself this long. Then again, the idea that Tony was the last person in hell that he'd want to show something like weakness to at the moment wasn't all that farfetched.

"Should wrap this before it gets worse," he said, looking around fruitlessly for something that wasn't completely filthy to use. He considered ripping off a sleeve, because that might be long enough, but when he looked her realized that he was about the definition of "completely filthy" at the moment, as were his clothes.

When Tony let out a frustrated sigh, Daniel took his hand back and smirked, shaking his head in a "don't worry about it" fashion.

At that point, a thought struck Tony and he grabbed at Daniel again, this time maybe a bit harshly. "Don't give me that," he stated at the kid's bewildered stare.

He dropped Daniel's hand on his thigh and unbuttoned his shirt. One look told him that his undershirt wasn't much better, but the T-sleeves were actually still white. He ignored the questioning look from his companion as he ripped the right sleeve off at the seam and slipped it off of his arm before replacing his button-up. Then he ripped it open by its other seam and wrapped it loosely around Daniel's wrist. When he tied it off and made it just a little too snug, he quickly gave a muttered apology and re-did it.

Daniel was confused now, eyes cast down and locked on the piece of white fabric. He was squinting through his glasses, as if that made seeing through them any easier, but the surprise was faint and obvious in the dirt-covered features of his face. Slowly, Tony was starting to notice subtle things about Daniel's expressions, little nuances that meant the difference between furious and sarcastic. Back in their cell, during me-time when Tony had his one-sided conversations about absolute nonsense, he had figured out how to tell when the other man was bored with him, or when he was particularly stressed out. Now, he reckoned that there was probably a way to tell exactly what Daniel was thinking just by looking at his face. That was probably how Lu seemed to have full discussions with him.

"Oh shit," Tony said suddenly. A face flashed in his memory, pale skin covered in blood, glazed over eyes, definitely dead. "Lu."

Like the snap of a bullwhip, Daniel's eyes went wide and his entire body got so tense he looked like he was liable to shatter. He reached out and grabbed onto the unbuttoned collar of Tony's shirt. Speaking of being able to tell what he was thinking based on his face: now would have been a good time to master that particular skill. Hell though, there were so many things there, it could have been a complete science. Danielology.

"That why you were trying to run back to the truck?"

No nod, no shrug or shake of the head; Daniel just grit his teeth and held on to Tony. The grip he had could have been construed as either aggression or desperation. Even Tony wasn't sure whether or not Daniel meant to throttle him or just needed something to hold on to.

Not sure what he was expected to do, Tony decided that he was pretty good at talking. So he went with that. "You were pretty close to him?"

Daniel closed his eyes for a moment, took a few deep breaths, and nodded. Putting a hand over his chest, he let go of Tony and sat back. He dragged his fingers through his hair and pulled his knees up to his chest. Deep in his throat, he made little groaning noises, and Tony tried to identify them as something other than crying—because he really hated to see big guys like Daniel cry. It was just awkward, but the only other thing he could call it was suffocation. To be completely honest, Daniel must have been choking because there were no tears, no chest-tightening sobs. Then, suddenly, he stilled and became completely silent, head in his hands.

For a moment, Tony considered what he could say, anything to keep Daniel from breaking down any further. There wasn't anything, though. He knew that when his partner—Kate—died, it didn't matter what anyone said or did. Nothing changed the fact that she was dead, that the back of her skull had been shot out right into his face—nothing could take that image from his mind.

And it wasn't like Tony could really understand how Daniel felt. He didn't know how close Daniel had been to Lu—what their relationship had been. They must have been friends since they were kids, judging by how hard Daniel was taking it. And sure, he and Kate had been close, but it was still a professional work relationship. He couldn't try to console the man.

Eventually, his mind wandered and turned around because the one thing he could do for Daniel was give him privacy. He thought about college, about magazines, thinking, the answer to life; all that jazz. He wondered if his apartment had been sold, and if so, to whom. What about his car? He'd been away for a good three years, hopefully someone was taking care of his car. Could he go back and get it? He didn't know where it was, but he bet that Gibbs did. He could find Gibbs, ask him.

It was a good idea, in theory. Gibbs would be able to hide them, and had the right tools to get them out of these cuffs. Tony would have to tell Daniel about it, probably after the other man had that haunted look out of his eyes. Then again, how would he explain going to a Navy Cop's house after escaping from prison? Then again again, who the hell said he had to start telling the mute his plans? It must have been his empathy screwing with his mind. He didn't have to go explaining himself just because Daniel's having a bad day, Tony was in charge. Tony was in control. Fuck Daniel, anyway.

Speaking of the Devil, then next time Tony looked around to check on the other man, Daniel had moved to stand right beside him. "Woah! Shit! Warn a guy, Cujo," he snaps, but Daniel isn't paying any attention to him.

With his nose upturned, Daniel looks a bit like a stuck up, European with bad breath—except that he doesn't have bad breath, and he isn't European so far as Tony can tell. He inhaled deeply and when his eyes fluttered open, he scanned the trees around them. Then he grabbed Tony's arm lightly and pointed through the trees like before. He was basing their direction on…what? something he smelled?

"No, I don't know if you're just trying to act all tough guy and shit, but I'm done following you around without any fricken explanation. Say something, damn it! What is _with _you?"

A little frustrated, Daniel glared at Tony and pointed to his own stomach. Maybe it was timing, or Daniel had some weird ability, but his stomach made a loud grumble on cue. Then he pointed to his nose and then back to the woods in his chosen direction. Right then, Tony caught a whiff of something cooking. It smelled a bit like spicy mixed with red meat.

"What? How did you—? Are you some kind of dog-man?"

Rolling his eyes, Daniel snorted a laugh as he started walking again.

"Wait a second, Rambo, I want some answers, damn it!" Tony stood his ground and yanked on the chain. He winced a little bit when Danny-boy let out a sharp yelp of pain as the cuff dug into his infected wrist.

Daniel gave Tony the darkest, coldest, harshest glare that could ever be witnessed by man without causing immediate transformation into stone and pulled back on the chain in a distinct "move it, now!"

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><p>"A fucking church?"<p>

Brow furrowed, Daniel considered Tony for a moment. He tapped the side of his nose with his index finger and then started toward the door.

"Oh yeah, I forgot you're Fido."

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><p>Daniel practically dragged Tony over to the altar and then pushed him down to his knees as he knelt. Leading by example, Daniel pressed his hands together and bowed his head. He waited a moment and jabbed his elbow into Tony's arm when he didn't move. The man had bony arms; Tony hissed in pain and recoiled.<p>

"For cryin' out loud, what?" he snapped.

Sarcastically, Daniel rolled his eyes and clapped his hands together softly but insistently.

"No! I am not fucking praying to the Jesus corpse. Catholics are crazy, man. They eat the flesh and drink the blood of the person they worship. Creepy as hell, besides I don't like anyone who doesn't believe in condoms and birth control. 'Sides, my parents are Catholic. I remember going to mass so early in the fucking morning I was watching owls fly by. Ow!"

To shut him up, Daniel elbowed him again, harder this time. Then, he rolled his eyes and went still, hands clasped together, gaze directed up at the mahogany statue of Christ on the cross. His stomach growled quietly, but he seemed to ignore it.

The church was very small, just a single room building that looked bigger from the outside. By the large, oak double doors sat an old, stone basin on a pedestal. Upon entering, Daniel had dipped his fingers in the water and crossed himself. They walked forward down the aisle where dark-wood pews sat on either side. Against the side walls, meticulously centered, were two tall confessionals on both sides. For a Catholic church, the walls were rather sparsely decorated. There was nothing particularly gaudy, as one expects there to be in a church, until they reached the altar. Two massive tapestries depicting the Virgin Mary and the Risen Jesus Christ hung adjacent. Centered right in the middle so that all eyes fell on it was a gruesome wood-carved statue of the Crucifixion.

Despite the discomfort that all of this religious paraphernalia instilled in Tony, the stained-glass windows let in a warm gold light. The room was small enough to be nicely heated even in the cool of early morning. Added to the strong scent if bread baking and what would have been a roast cooking, the two of them did _not_ want to leave.

"Can you tell where it's coming from?" Tony asked.

Daniel shushed him, as if the sound of him talking interrupted his sense of smell, and looked around smelling the air quietly. He glanced over his shoulder a couple of times, but mainly focused on the area behind the altar. A little put off, Tony huffed a bit and tried to follow Daniel's eyes. Of course, it was pointless venture because aside from being hidden behind foggy, dirty lenses, Daniel wasn't really looking anywhere. He was totally driven by his nose at the moment, like a dog—the dogs that felt so close on their heels right now.

They knelt side by side and Tony was so distracted, staring at the other man, he didn't see or even hear anyone approach until the last minute.

"Can I help you boys?"

Spinning around, they moved almost in unison and saw the tall man standing at the front of the church with a small pile of chopped wood over his shoulder. He was an older man, but very well built and healthy; he looked like if it came down to it he could take both of them in a fight. Add to that the fact that he had a scary looking rifle strapped to his back. His eyes flickered downward and saw the chain that bound them together and then he looked warily back at their faces.


End file.
